


just the beginning

by cheloniidae



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:28:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheloniidae/pseuds/cheloniidae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benny signs over his tribe’s future with a flourish and a name stolen from history books, and he doesn’t think twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	just the beginning

The presidential suite is supposed to be soundproof, but Benny can hear sounds of construction through the walls from his seat at the conference table. Drills, saws, hammers, all working around the clock— proof that his tribe is bringing this place back to life. House weaves golden-thread stories of a long-lost neon paradise, but it’s Benny’s tribe who are going to make it real again.

This was worth killing Bingo for; he hasn't doubted that for a second. None of this could’ve happened with that old man still in charge, and the Boot Riders — the Chairmen, now, he reminds himself — deserve all this and more. 

A cigarette dangles from his lips, burnt down almost to the filter. The smell of nicotine and smoke is better than the smell of dust that clings to parts of the old casino. (Even the dust is better than desert sand, he thinks.) Benny takes a drag, taps the cigarette on the ashtray. Waits. 

One of House’s securitrons rolls into the room, and Benny picks at the sleeve of his suffocating black suit as he waits for the face to change. House always has the same expression whenever he talks through one of his securitrons: a half smirk, one eyebrow quirked up like a challenge. Benny wonders what the challenge is. He wonders, sometimes, if this is all he’ll ever see of his new boss. Doing business without looking someone in the eye isn’t his tribe's way.

Settling down in a city isn’t their way, either, but he’ll make them see.

House offers a quick apology for being late, and he doesn’t give Benny a chance to reply before getting down to business. The negotiations are almost done; all that’s left is to dot the i’s and cross the t’s. If Benny has learned anything about his new boss, it’s that the man — or machine, or whatever he is — is thorough. 

Benny gets halfway through another cigarette, and then there’s only one question left.

“What name have you chosen for yourself?” House was the one who picked the tribe’s new name, and he made it sound like letting them pick their own names was him doing them a favor. He’s the only one who sees it that way; none of the tribe is happy about having to leave their old names in the desert. But Benny is chief now, and if he says they’ll listen to House then that’s what they’ll do. The others won’t challenge him. The memory of what he did to Bingo is too fresh in their minds. 

( _Stabbed him right in the throat_ , he overhears someone whispering in the ancient hallways. _Just like that_.)  

“Benny Lansky,” he answers. Two names, painstakingly chosen, and Benny finds himself waiting for — wanting — House’s approval of the choice. 

House’s face remains unchanged, but a warm chuckle comes from the securitron’s speakers. “I see you’ve been studying your history. Siegel and Meyer?”

Benny nods. “Yeah, the guys that built the first casino. From what I read, they were—” He pauses, trying to remember the notes he took on slang from the books House gave them. “—good cats to swing with.” The unfamiliar words leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He buries the feeling of wrongness under a lungful of smoke. 

_Follow this to the letter,_ House said as his securitrons dropped off a box full of holotapes and books, _or I’ll find a tribe who can_. An opportunity like this won’t come twice. Food, medicine, water— a chance for something more than the desert can give. Benny will be damned if he’s the one to ruin it.

“As apt a description as any. They were important… as we both are. This,” House makes an expansive gesture, “is just the beginning. You’re doing more than restoring a casino, you understand? You and I are building a future. Both for your people, and for humanity. Quite the legacy for you to have.” 

A legacy. Benny likes the sound of that. He can see it inside his head: fifty, eighty years from now, the Chairmen still talking about the chief who brought them in from the desert. It was Benny, they’ll say, who gave them a new — a _better_ — way to live. They’ll remember what he did; they’ll remember that he was the best damn chief they ever had. And if they don’t remember the name he was born with… well, that suits him just fine.

House motions with a three-fingered hand to the stack of paper lying on the table between them. “Now that you have a name to sign with, there’s the matter of your contract.”

_ The Employee agrees that he will at all times faithfully, industriously, and to the best of his skill, ability, experience and talents, perform all of the duties required of his position… _

Benny signs over his tribe’s future with a flourish and a name stolen from history books, and he doesn’t think twice. 

(He returns to his room to find a box lying in front of his door, stamped with the Lucky 38’s insignia. There’s a crisply-folded suit inside, spotless black-and-white buffalo plaid. And a note on top of the suit, printed on yellowing ticker tape:

“Not Siegel’s original, but it will do.” 

It fits like a glove.)

 


End file.
